For as long as she could remember, Emma had dreamed of visiting Spain. She imagined wandering through the winding streets of Barcelona, admiring the sunset over Costa Brava, where golden sunlight danced on the white cliffs. This journey was her deepest wish—a reward for years of hard work, a long-awaited escape from the monotony of her small life in a quiet town by the River Thames. But every time she mentioned the trip, her husband, Edward, found a reason to postpone it.
“Next summer, love, I promise we’ll go,” he’d say, year after year, his words as hollow as an empty echo. “We’ve got to finish the house, clear the loans, save a bit more.” At first, Emma believed him. She had shared her dream of Spain since their wedding day, and Edward had assured her they would go together. She began setting aside money, carefully tucking away every spare pound, nurturing the hope that one day they’d step onto Spanish soil together. But as the years passed, “next summer” turned into an endless excuse. Work took all his time, the boiler broke, savings never seemed enough. Emma convinced herself it was temporary—they would go, eventually.
By the time she turned sixty, Emma had saved enough for a lavish two-week holiday—business class flights, seaside hotels, guided tours of historic landmarks. She brought up the trip again, her eyes alight with excitement. But Edward, barely looking up from his phone, laughed. “Spain? At your age? What’s there for you now? Are you going to parade around ruins in an old swimsuit? You’re not a young girl anymore, Em.” His words stung like a whip. Emma felt the air leave her lungs. After all those years of waiting, hoping, believing they shared the same dream, she realised—Edward had never cared about her wishes. To him, it was just a silly fantasy, unworthy of time or money.
Something inside her shattered. Years of patience, compromise, and hope crumbled like a sandcastle beneath the tide. The next day, while Edward was at work, Emma made her choice. She booked the trip—two weeks in Spain, just for herself. No more waiting, no more asking for permission. She packed her suitcase, left a note: “Good luck with the cricket, Edward. You’ll need it,” and headed to the airport.
When Emma stepped off the plane in Barcelona, it felt as though an unbearable weight had lifted. She breathed in the warm, citrus-scented air and, for the first time in years, felt truly free. Strolling through La Sagrada Família, standing atop the cliffs of Costa Brava, she understood how long she’d delayed living for someone else’s priorities. And yes, she wore that swimsuit—proudly, without a second thought for anyone’s judgement. This was her moment, her life.
One evening, dining in a beachside restaurant in Costa Brava, she met Thomas. They laughed, shared stories, and for the first time in years, Emma felt truly seen. To him, she wasn’t “too old”—she was vibrant, full of life, open to new horizons. They spent the rest of her holiday together, exploring hidden coves, tasting local sherry, making memories she would treasure forever.
Returning home, she found Edward gone—a note left on the table: “Staying with my brother.” But instead of heartbreak or fear of loneliness, Emma felt only relief. She no longer had to wait for someone who never valued her dreams or happiness. Months later, she was still writing to Thomas, her heart alive with the promise of new adventures. For the first time in years, Emma wasn’t waiting for anyone else to grant her wishes—she was living them.
Sitting on her balcony overlooking the quiet river, Emma thought back to the day she had first told Edward about her dream. He had smiled, hugged her, and promised, “We’ll go someday.” But promises dissolved into routines and indifference. Each time she mentioned Spain, he brushed her off as though her dream were childish fantasy. She had endured, hoped, convinced herself he would change. But his final words—”You’re not a young girl anymore”—had been the last straw. They didn’t just wound her pride—they shattered her faith in their partnership.
Deciding to travel alone hadn’t been easy. Emma lay awake all night, imagining Edward’s anger, his accusations of selfishness. But by morning, she knew—her life was hers, and she wouldn’t let anyone steal her dreams. Booking the tickets, she felt fear shift into determination. When the plane took off, Emma smiled—not for anyone else, but for herself.
In Spain, she rediscovered a woman she had long forgotten. She danced to street music in Barcelona, sipped sangria on sunlit terraces, laughed until tears streamed down her face at Thomas’s jokes. He was older too, but his eyes held the same fire—a hunger for life that time couldn’t extinguish. “You’re incredible,” he told her once. “How could anyone hide a light like yours for so long?” His words melted decades of ice in her soul.
Now, sitting on her balcony, Emma knew—she was no longer the woman who waited for permission to live. She didn’t know what lay ahead—more travels, visits with Thomas, or something new. But for the first time, she was ready for whatever came next. Her dream of Spain wasn’t just a holiday—it was her liberation, her victory over fear and indifference.
And what would you have done in her place?
